


The Powerful Places Within Me

by TerminalVelocity



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Arthurian, Becoming Narnian, I don't know, I'm going off a lot of shit here right now, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Multi, The King and the Land Are One, and frankly idk where it's even going, join me for the ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:54:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22733635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminalVelocity/pseuds/TerminalVelocity
Summary: Addressing the Susan Problem the only way I know how- by rewriting everything that came after a Lion decided to crown four children and place them on thrones they had no idea how to handle.  This is inspired by a lot of writing, a lot of reading, and a lot of my own history with religious abuse. This is NOT going to be a pro-christian story but rather a very Pagan one. Please don't read it if that makes you uncomfortable.
Relationships: Eventual Lucy/Tumnus
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

_~The Powerful Places Within Me~_

_PROLOGUE_

When Susan is but a young girl, she falls through a wardrobe's empty back and into a world of magic and enchantment. But, before then, she is just a girl with a family thrown into a war they didn't particularly expect, but definitely saw coming. It started when her father was called up. It continued through the hard times that followed- learning how to ration, learning how to take on some of her mother's cares and responsibilities so that her siblings wouldn't notice the difference so much. It's days spent cleaning while their mother is working and evenings spent making dinner while she puts her feet up in the den. It's a thousand and one little responsibilities that she takes perhaps with less grace than she might have done, but which her mother thanks her for with careful hands taking warm cups of tea and smoothing across a too-youthful brow. 

When they are sent away that fateful summer to the countryside to hide, she takes a few things with her. Books from the shelves in her father's abandoned study, an afghan her mother had knitted with her own two hands, and the slow and certain understanding that despite being a year older than her, it is Susan and not Peter who must be the responsible one. The little mother. She wraps herself in the tangible love of her own mother late at night in the form of the blanket and wonders to herself how long it will be before she breaks, or they do. She can see the cracks forming, even if she doesn't yet understand how or why they are there. 

She can see how Peter and Edmund are at each other's throats and little Luce is caught between them. Edmund, with his need to be right and seen as intelligent, to stand out from his brother's growing shadow. And Peter, with his aching understanding of what war means and the danger involved. Peter, forced to grow up too fast; and never does she turn that thought on herself!; become too quickly a leader without learning how to inspire. Only how to be somewhat superior and perhaps condescendingly paternalistic. She has her own faults, she knows. Too shrill, too nagging, too quick to condemn- 

But when her sister tumbles out of a wardrobe of all things, only moments after Peter had finished his counting on that rainy afternoon she knew things had reached a boiling point. Proven in uncomfortable shifting understanding when confronted by the Professor. How often she repeated his words in the days that followed, stolen from some book or other " _Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth_." _How right he had been_ , she thought, when she herself was standing in the middle of a snowy wood with lanternlight casting shadows across the pure white drifts. How often did she repeat it, years later, with a crown on her head and sweet lies like poison in her ears from foreign princes.

But our story here does not begin then, but rather from a new beginning. From the moment this Little Mother had a crown placed upon her shining dark head and a Lion proclaimed her not only a Queen, but The Gentle, and all that that might entail. It took her years before she truly understood it, but soon enough she would. Much as her siblings would grow into their own titles, so would Susan learn the power of Gentleness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to go with the movie's ages as it makes certain things a bit less squicky for me. Ergo, Peter is 18, Susan is 17, Edmund is 14, and Lucy is 10.

_Chapter One_

Susan remembered, even years later, the beginning of their Coronation Day. Three days after the battle, somewhat bleary and sleep deprived as the dawn rose and they were hustled from bed to baths and food and prepared for the day. She did not remember what had been placed before her, but she remembered the excited smile Edmund shot her way, the bubbling laugh of her little sister and the way Peter had met her dark gaze. _We're not ready_ , his eyes said, and her's _We must_. The dwarf-forged cornets and crowns had not been much of a surprise; only that they had managed to find enough gold and silver anywhere for them to be made. But there were tapestries seemingly spun from nothing by quick and clever fingers both Dryad and Talking Beast alike, and how the Cair sparkled in the light when the double doors were flung wide and the trumpets sounded. 

Susan felt dead on her feet, still swaying with uncertainty and doubt that they were really ready for this, could do this, that Aslan's trust in them was not wildly misplaced- And yet, here they were, surrounded on every side by bright expectant faces. And so she straightened her spine, brushed shaking hands over brilliantly silver skirts and strode forward solemnly to meet her fate. Sweet Lucy, with shining eyes and a barely controlled laugh as her Mr Tumnus placed the silver circlet onto her golden curls. Then Edmund, with unabashed glee and a failed attempt at grandeur. And then, oh, then! Then Tumnus was bowing over her and she curtsied to him on trembling legs and then the golden coronet of flowers and Aslan's ringing voice and scarcely had she time to breathe before Peter was receiving his own crown and title and they were settling into white thrones- 

The court swirled around them as Aslan left the dais. Closing ranks around their new monarchs, pledging fealty, swearing loyalty, offering gifts and lessons, instruction and suggesting new projects until Susan's head was aching and her ears ringing with the noise of it all. She saw Lucy slip away as the sun was beginning to set, and Peter engaged in quiet conversation with several of the Centaur Guard. She moved on silent feet towards a balcony, out of the flung-wide doors and into the cooling sea air. 

The breeze was gentle, soft and caressing as it lifted the edges of her gown and cloak; played with the dark curls that surrounded her face. The young queen lifted her face and sighed, eyes slipping shut as her hands grasped at the sun-warmed marble of the rail. Somehow, she knew she should be inside, available to her new subjects. She knew that they were counting on them, on her, and that her Little Mother title might well end up extending to a whole country but the thought was too large to handle just then. Too inescapable and cloying to truly realize in the moment. And so she stood on the balcony in the flaming sunset and watched the waves and the shifting sand and sky until one of the Talking Dogs came to fetch her for the evening meal. 

~*~

Wisely, they were allowed to eat alone that night, none of the raucous feasting and commotion that Susan had feared. Edmund is half asleep in his soup plate and Lucy is still chattering excitedly about all the things that shall have to be done tomorrow to a Peter who looks about done in. Susan eats in contemplative silence for the most part; roast and vegetables, soup that tastes of leek and potato and new spices, and fruits she has no names for yet but a few of which are recognizable. Her heart beats against her ribs, and she feels them like a cage constricting her every breath. Still, she puts steel into her spine and holds herself upright; for the sake of the two fauns and the Talking Beasts present to help serve. She does, however, cut off Lucy's tangent about going down to see the merfolk in the morning with a quiet   
"It's been a long day, Lu, don't you think we ought to sleep and make any new plans over breakfast?" Peter hums his assent, and nudges Edmund with a gentle elbow.   
"Huh? Zzat?" He blinks blearily and Lucy only laughs and slips from her chair to give Susan a quick tight hug before following one of the Dryads towards the room she's been given. Edmund is soon to follow in the quick hoofsteps of a ginger colored Faun.

Susan meets Peter's eyes seriously, her voice cool.   
"You know as well as I do that we don't have much business being here, Peter," She lifted the crystal glass of water to her lips and took a slow swallow before settling it quietly next to her plates. "We're practically children. We don't know anything about running a country and I'd bet you anything not many of the people here do either. It's going to be trial and error, and there are lives at risk-"  
"What do you expect us to do, Susan!" Peter leaned across the table, grasping her hand tight. "Aslan's expecting us to make it work, to protect these people. It's our battle now, has been since we got here. We can't just run back to England and leave them all, and anyway it's done. We've got the thrones, and Aslan will be watching to make sure we follow through." Susan managed what she hoped was a reassuring smile and nodded. 

"I won't argue that, but remember, Peter. The rest of the Witch's army is still out there somewhere. We're going to have to learn on the fly, and fast, or risk losing more... well, people, I suppose," she caught herself a bit guiltily, remembering that her siblings were, so far as they knew, the only humans currently in Narnia. Peter gripped her hand tighter, his gaze determined.  
"We will. We've won one battle already, most of a war at that. Tomorrow, I'll meet with the generals Aslan set and create some sort of rotating roster for weeding them out. And you," Peter looked down at their hands and then back to his sister's face, searching. 

"You were always best with us, even in England. You did your best to hold us together and make us see sense. Aslan called you the Gentle, Su, it's got to be you." The young queen lifted her water glass, and smiled a smile full of teeth and promise. 

"Well. If it must be me, it will be."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Two_

The first few months of their reign passed much as their first weeks in Narnia had, at least so far as Peter and Edmund were concerned. There was rather a lot of sleeping rough, and long hours spent in the saddle tracking down the remnants of the White Witch's army. Slogging through the moors and the marshes, ferreting them out of the barrows and secret places in which they had hidden themselves. And, through it all, Lucy was there with her little crystal vial and kind words, and Susan with stern looks and sweet smiles to direct the newly appointed palace staff and arrange care for the wounded. All four of them met frequently with their many advisors, and appointed from those who had fought in the battles a war council that Peter led, for the most part. The young king was growing into the burdens that faced them all, and it showed in the lines of his shoulders and the steel newly put into his spine. As the newly created Spring began to turn to Summer however, many of the Old Narnians began to be restless.

Susan began to notice one bright morning on her way to breakfast. The glint of silver hemlines on brightly dyed linen flashing around the corner ahead of her, quick and furious whispers that sounded like the brook just outside the castle walls-  
"No of course she doesn't know! And no one's going to say, either-"  
"But if we don't then what?"  
"Then Aslan will just have to take it in paw, won't he!" Susan pressed herself against the warm white wall, and listened for a moment longer.   
"Hush! All of you, hush!" The naiad warned, "I've only just seen the Queen in the halls, she's coming- And don't mention a word of this to anyone else, they're too new for it." The young queen's eyes narrowed as she took in the information, squirreling it away for later digestion. She smoothed her skirts, straightened her bodice, and did her best to glide down the hallway towards breakfast.

It was hours before she could get Peter alone, though she tried to catch his attention at the table he was preoccupied. Edmund seemed no better, diving into his sausages and porridge like it would fly away if he did not eat it immediately. Lucy was little better, stuffing two pieces of toast and jam into her mouth only to offer a mumbled apology before running off someplace. It did in fact take until mid afternoon before she caught up to him on the way towards the Council Chambers.

~*~

"Peter, have you noticed anything... strange, going on in the Cair?" Susan asked quietly, as they walked through the palace halls towards the next council meeting. "I've been noticing several of the fauns seem restless, and just yesterday I happened upon several of the Beasts talking. A festival, of some sort? Do you know it?" Peter stopped short, casting a wary glance around them at the mercifully silent and abandoned hall.   
"Don't ask questions you're not prepared to hear the answers to," he said quietly, before looking aside, shifting his weight. "I do know about it, and some of us are meant to take part in it. But Edmund and Lucy-" he cut himself off, an abortive movement of his hand towards the sword that would have been riding on his belt. "Ed and Lu are too young for what's meant to take place, Susan, and you. I don't think it's the sort of thing you'd be comfortable with. Aslan knows I'm not! But," he took a quick, steadying breath and forged on ahead, leaving Susan to wonder at his tone. "But, it's part of becoming part of this place. Becoming Narnian, I mean. And well, we're the only humans here, you know. We've sort of... got to. At least, I do." He managed a quick, vanishing smile that came off more like a wince. "At any rate, we need to get to the council." 

He strode off down the hallway, sunlight glinting off the new court doublet in deep navy velvet. Only the tense set of his shoulders would alert someone who knew him well, as Susan must, to how uncomfortable he felt in the moment. Susan steeled herself, and took off after him.

~*~

Late that night, Susan found herself unable to relax. Instead, she paced around her rooms, long skirts brushing the thick carpets that had been brought in from somewhere. Frustrated and discomforted by the secrecy that had shrouded her day; nay, her entire experience of this world so far; she wrapped herself in a warm dressing gown and made her way towards the library. The white halls of Cair Paravel were lit with torches and otherwise quiet save for the guards posted every so often. They bowed their heads and murmured late night greetings to her as she passed, but she scarcely saw them- Only the large double oaken doors to the Library were of concern to her at this moment. 

When she reached them and had crept inside, she found it dark and silent save for the slight rustle of pages turning. She stepped further into the gloom, drawing her wrapping tighter to her as she peered through the dimness towards a glowing lanternlight.   
"...Hello?" She called softly, only to hear a hard-bound tome snap shut followed by hoofsteps ringing on the marble floors.  
"Ah! Your Majesty, I had not expected you, and not at this hour-" A willowy Faun stepped from the shadows, covered hip to heel in steel grey fur and navel to nose in pale smooth skin. The hair of his head was gingery blonde, greying at the temples and his eyes a curious green. 

"My apologies for disturbing you so late, Mr...?" The faun smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling a bit.   
"Arvus, Your Majesty," he murmured, bowing gracefully. "What brings you to the library on this night? Have your advisors run out of wisdom to fill your ears?" Susan laughed a little, taken aback.   
"Not quite, it is only that I had heard mention of some festival, and the High King will not speak of it. I am not fond of secrets, so I am come to find out what I can," She slipped slowly into the diction her advisors had been trying to impress upon her for months, in an attempt to seem more in control of herself. "If you have any wisdom to impart, I would be glad of it." 

The faun's green eyes narrowed as he stared at her across half-moon spectacles that he slid up his nose with a shallow sniff.   
"Hmn. You'll be wanting information on the Solstice, then," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Not been celebrated in- well, a century I suppose," he coughed discreetly into his fist, and tilted his head to look her over. "And I suppose the King's Grace has said you're too young to take part?" Susan nodded, hands twitching in the folds of her over-robe.   
"He said I would not find myself comfortable," She offered. "I would like to decide such a thing for myself, as I am able, Mr Arvus." The faun nodded sharply,   
"Good. I'd expect nothing less of a Monarch of Narnia," he hummed, tapping a hoof lightly against the floor in indecision. "Very well, then, you'll be wanting the journals of the last monarchs. I know the section they've been placed in. Well, come along then, Your Highness." 

Susan followed on his heels as he whirled and took off down the long, carpeted aisle. Past the entrance to the library there was a sitting area to the left; long tall windows opened to the weak night breeze, curtains drifting lazily in the mostly still air, to the right the large desk and its stacks of books. Down the aisle to either side were tall shelves, some packed with books, others in some state of disrepair or mending, with the books instead laying on their sides on the floor or piled neatly upon unopened boxes or carts.

"Those of us who have held to the old ways before the Witch ruled, brought in our own libraries for copying or donation to the Cair's library," Arvus said briskly. "The palace has been in quite a state, you understand, boarded up all these years. Of course, we did what we could to prevent it, but her armies were rather too strong for us." He huffed, shaking his head, "Aslan hadn't been seen in a generation, you understand, we'd given up hope of a rescue before you showed up and He returned," He turned on his heel, leading her down the stacks and towards one particularly large shelf. "Ah! Here we are, the journals!" He waved at them absently, "You'll be wanting any of those from the Summers, they're subdivided by ruler and quarter of the year. Feel free to peruse them at your leisure Your Majesty, but please do not be taking too many of them at once. These have yet to be copied, and we'd appreciate them not leaving the Cair proper. Only ones of their kind, you see, invaluable, really, in setting tradition and such, you understand how it is, I'm sure." His green gaze sent an icy dagger right through Susan's heart, reminding her of Mrs Macready, if she thought too hard about it. 

She swallowed hard and nodded her assent, speaking to avoid some hysterical laugh escaping her.  
"Of course I understand the unique and difficult position you're in Mr Arvus," She assured him, tight smile tugging at her lips. "I wouldn't dream of removing them from the grounds. I'll just take the first few relevant volumes and return them as I've made my notes if that's alright with you?" Arvus nodded briskly and waved a hand at the shelves.   
"Then they're yours to peruse, Your Majesty. Myself or one of the other Elders will be about, when you wish to return them or choose new volumes. I shall leave you to it." 

As Arvus left her to her own devices, Susan reached out shaking hands to the knowledge contained with the countless leatherbound books on the shelves. Here lay the answers to the questions she had been asking, and perhaps to questions she'd not even known to ask.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! On to the real MEAT of this story! How one Becomes Narnian/Narnian Monarch and also how an outsider might be made a Narnian. Also also, beginning to address how Susan is different from her siblings in as much as my mind can comprehend it as someone who was ALSO disowned and cast off. Also, we're about to get way more Queer rep in here.

_Chapter Three_

The curtains blew open every so often, the susurrus of the fabric on stone soon becoming comforting as Susan curled up on one of the thickly padded lounges to read. The first brown leather bound book sat heavily on her lap, weighty with expectation and unexamined history. Susan stroked idly across the cover, shivering in uncertain anticipation of what she might find there. She opened it carefully, and read aloud the carefully written title.  
"The journal of Gale of Narnia, Ninth Descendant of King Frank V, being an account of his first year as King of Narnia and Lord of Cair Paravel. Summer, year 293." She hummed quietly, considering that carefully. _So, he would have been 21, and only nine years later he went after the Lone Islands. Hm. Not much older than me- Or Peter,_ She amended in her head, before turning the pages, looking for anything that stood out; a triumphant twitch of her lips the only expression as she found one intriguing page a few moments of idle flipping later. 

_Summer, 293, June 18th_

_The Solstice is three days hence, and I am but newly crowned. Or, soon to be crowned, according to my Father's advisors. I find myself uncertain. There was of course the great public ceremony- one only wishes that Aslan had been here as he had been for King Frank and Queen Helen of old but I must not fall victim of vanity- but now I am told of a new and strange custom. The Centaurs have arrived at the Cair, and I am told that I must follow an ancient tradition to truly become King of Narnia._

_The King and the Land are one, it is said, and I have often wondered at it that it should be so. For is not Aslan the ruler of the land, and do we not carry out His wishes to the best of our abilities and each according to his talents? And yet. And yet, the Centaurs are here and the spirits of the Old Trees are soon arriving and I must needs follow their commands, so says my Father. Else I shall be but king in name alone, and I fear what may befall our dear Narnia if I fail in this trial-_

Susan shifted on the chaise, drawing the over robe tighter around her. She had heard that phrase somewhere before she knew, but already she was beginning to forget the myths of her own world, even her beloved England. She chewed at the end on one slightly ragged nail and turned the page, eyes scanning the ink-marked pages before she found what she was looking for. 

_The Solstice Celebrations are a festival for the Narnians- for Talking Beasts and forest spirits, for the guardians of the rivers and the creatures that live in the Barrows. For the dryads and dwarves, the satyrs and fauns and, when we are drawn to the Festival Fires, the rulers of Narnia as well._

Susan felt a chill down her spine and she found herself quite grateful for the growing summer heat. She wished for something bracing to drink, but could not pull herself from the library, nor the book she held in her hands.

_... Upon our public coronation, we are oathbound to attend the next Solstice or Equinox Festival and join the Narnians as they are. To accept our role in guiding the fate of the country and of communing with it as the Lion intended. To symbolically marry ourselves to Narnia and take it to our hearts as fully as any Man might and so become a Narnian in truth. I fear I do not yet understand the fullness of this, and my Father has kept his mouth most firmly shut on the subject. Nor do I yet understand how, being born a Narnian, I am not. Father is silent on this as well. I fear it may have something to do with the looks thrown my way since the coronation, as though I am not fit to wear my Father's crown._

_I know they have wondered at my birth, and my nature, and the expression of my form since I have grown- But that is not cause for such as this. Well I know how accepting Narnia has been of me, and others of my ilk. How considerate, how compassionate, and how nurturing in its love for all who dwell within the light of our country. Who would be outcast in Archenland finds peace and home, who would be denied their birthright... finds it here outstretched. I shall know soon enough what is meant by this, and, pray Gods, I shall not fail in it._

~*~

"Have you found what you are needing, Your Majesty?" The calm voice broke into her reverie and, startled, Susan nearly bungled Gale's journal to the floor. She caught it as it slid from her lap and leaned forward, setting it lightly on the table in front of her with a slightly chagrined expression.   
"OH! I... yes, yes I had," She turned her head and found herself face to chest with a deep bay Centaur. "Oh-" She tilted her head back, slipping from the chaise and rolling easily to her feet. "I don't believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance-?" The Centaur's face melted into a warm smile.   
"Swiftstar, Your Majesty. Arvus has returned to his rooms for the morning, and asked me to see if aught was needed." Susan winced, and turned her gaze towards the windows where the deep dark was giving way to deep blue and the growing twilight before dawn.

"How very kind of you both," Susan reached up, pushing her loose hair from her face where it had fallen as she read. "I think, if I might, I will be taking this particular book with me and returning to bed as well." Swiftstar eyed the book, noting its title before nodding.   
"I do not believe any harm shall come of it, Majesty, but I would repeat Arvus' warning. Please do not remove it from the Cair." He lifted one heavy hoof and bowed as gracefully as a warrior might. "I wish you peace and good rest, return to us as you will." He turned and carefully walked away, his hooves ringing on the marble floor before being muffled by the carpet of the aisles.

Susan watched him go, before gathering the journal to her chest and moving quickly in the direction of her room and sleep. 

_~*~_

The halls of Cair Paravel were still rather deserted, though here and there a guard wandered the palace on rotation or snuffed a torch in anticipation of the dawn. Susan moved with surety towards her own chambers, bidding a quiet greeting to those she passed, grateful that none bowed and scraped in return. When she reached the gilded door to her chambers she shut it gratefully behind her and immediately placed the book upon her desk, locking the drawer in which it was kept. The dual warnings from Arvus and Swiftstar being enough to make her wary, and uncertain of what eyes might search it's pages as she had done, even though she knew not in entirety what secrets they might hold.  
_And anyway, if there's something shocking I wouldn't want just anyone reading it. Especially not Lucy!_ She shuddered at the thought of just what might be involved in the rituals mentioned by King Gale; of sacrifices and pyres; and of shattering Lucy's innocence in one hard blow. _Better if no one knows what I'm reading just now but the librarians,_ she thought decisively, twisting her hair into a braid for sleep. _Far better to be overcautious, than throw wide the doors to potential ridicule should it all be one large joke. Or worse... something created to humiliate us just as we've begun to try to do good here._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I've been sitting on this one. Let's see what you think!

_Chapter Four_

Susan spent a rather restless night tossing and turning, the words of the journals she had devoured in the library haunting her. They called to mind things she'd read about Back There, as they had started referring to England and the time before Narnia had become their whole existence. Pagan rituals, Beltane fires, things older even than King Arthur and the legends she'd loved when she was Lucy's age. When she slept, at last, it was fitfully. Her dreams full of dark forests and flames, and the heavy beat of drums-   
  
"SUSAN!" She startled awake to a heavy hand at her door, pounding at the oaken timbers.   
"I don't think she's in there, Peter-" Lucy's soft, high voice could still be heard as Susan all but threw herself from bed, tangled still in the bedding, and grasped for her robe.  
"A moment, I'm coming, just-" She fumbled, but got the belt tied and half-ran to the door, shaking the sheets from her ankles. "Peter what in-" She threw open the door to find her siblings standing there in the light of mid morning, crown upon his brow and a dubious expression on his face.

"I...ah. Is it a bad time?" He asked, taking in her dishevelled and sleep-tousled appearance. "It's only that we've got word of fell beasts in the western wood, and I'm heading out shortly with Edmund. We wanted to tell you that you'll be here with Lucy alone for a week or so, while it's dealt with." Lucy peered up at Susan curiously, tilting her golden head.  
"Didn't you get any sleep at all, Susan?" She piped, birdlike. "I don't think I've ever seen you so.... rumpled." Susan lifted a hand to smooth her hair, ineffectual as it might have been and offered them both what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Not terribly well, I'm afraid. But only because I was up too late reading- you know how it is when you've got a good book! I just can't put them down." Lucy nodded and clasped her hands,  
"Oh! I do~ You know how much I love fairy tales," she sighed, a little dreamily, and Peter coughed discreetly into his hand.   
"Ha...mm. Well, if it's only a book keeping you awake," he allowed, casting his gaze across his sister's face. "Use the Horn if there's any disturbances, but I am leaving half the war party here. You'll have plenty of guards, the pair of you, should they decide to attack. We'll be back when it's dealt with, Su. Lucy, listen to your sister, won't you?" He hugged them both tightly, and strode off to find Edmund. 

Susan watched him go, closing the door partway. It wasn't unusual to have lost his presence in Cair Paravel for a time, nor for him to take Edmund along. But they came back from each encounter more worn, more drawn and stern. She knew creatures who had died in these skirmishes, and yet... and yet, was it not their duty to Narnia to protect it? To drive out these forces from the country? She sighed, and beckoned her younger sister.  
"Come on then, Lu, if we're to be the only ruling monarchs in residence, best we look the part." Lucy giggled and shut the door tightly behind her.

~*~

The two sisters were quickly drawn up into the politics of court life, and it was days before Susan felt she had a breather to read again. There were the dwarves needing fuel for their fires and unwilling to return too deep for ores, and dryads who did not wish to give up wood for fires but would not see their deaf and dumb brethren put to the ax. Naiads that requested their streams be cleared of debris from the long winter's ravages, and Beasts of every description seeking work or occupation or merely to speak to their rulers. Such were the demands on their time that half the day was filled with audiences in the throne room and half in meetings to deal with the requests extended. After dinner in the great hall, both young Queens were so exhausted that they fell into bed and did not rise until the sun rose. 

Though it had begun to slow, with the onset of summer, there were still decisions to be made. Harvests to be planned and first and second fruitings to be gathered into the storerooms. In this, the Queens had a part as well. They walked the fields with the Dryads and nature spirits, fished in the rivers with the Naiads and children of the forest. They hunted with Talking Dogs and Centaurs and spent the evenings with the Fauns and Satyrs and Dwarves, dancing and drinking, and singing until, exhausted, they dragged themselves to their chambers. In all of this, the air of Narnia had begun to take its hold. They were stronger and braver, wiser and quicker to diplomacy than to anger. Truly, it had had its effects on the young Kings as well. Peter had grown taller and broader even in the few short months since their arrival. And Edmund, who had been snappish and caustic, sarcastic and sharp-edged, was learning to think before he spoke and to consider the consequences of his actions before he took them.

"What do you think, Ed?" Peter asked softly, nodding towards the deep caves before them. Peter, Edmund, and the war party was crouched and hidden in the undergrowth, downwind of the caves. "I'm not as good at reading the tracks as you-" Edmund lifted a hand for silence, and shook his head.   
"They've dug in deep. Look- those rocks weren't there originally, you can see the drag marks. They've done their best to narrow the cave mouth, close it off. Those are deep tracks, too. They've got at least two minotaur, and probably at least one bear and an ogre." He sighed, and rubbed at his brow as he thought. "We can't just charge in. It'll be dark, and we'll be night blind. We don't quite know how many of them there are. We could try picking them off one by one, but that'd take ages. If we split our forces and flank the caves.... send in bait..." Peter nodded slowly.  
"Guerilla tactics might have worked in the beginning, but they know we'll be here sooner or later and if they're dug in as well as you say, they'll have provisions. We're not equipped for a siege, at any rate. Alright, Edmund, your lead then." 

Edmund beckoned to the lion close to them,  
"Erick, you'll be going in with what dogs we've got. Take them and half the centaurs and fauns. I want you to circle up to their left, and ah... Tasla!" A female gryphon crept forward and bowed her head to the king, "you'll be leading the other half of our forces. Take the Beasts with wings, and wait until they've been drawn out. If you be willing to attack from above, I think we might stand a good chance here."   
"I hear and obey, Sire," her voice was a rough, cracking thing, but her eyes were smiling in fierce delight. "We go, then!" She rustled her wings, and turned her head, clacking her beak at the creatures waiting in the undergrowth. The gryphons bowed their heads, birdlike, before taking off silently, with other talking birds of prey and their lone pegasus. Tasla dug her talons and claws into the earth before springing upwards with a heavy downbeat of her wings, and took off for the sunlit sky. Peter clapped Edmund on the back grimly.   
"Aye, little brother... we'll soon have them gone from Narnia." Edmund kept his thoughts to himself, and slid backwards to speak to what remained of their forces.

~*~

Back at Cair Paravel, Susan was pouring through reports and letters from every corner of their kingdom. While it had once been rather densely populated, during the Witch's reign not many children had been born. Perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of a lack of safety, their youngest generation was at best in their teens. Out of this, a delegation from one of the centaur herds had joined with several other concerned groups, to present a moratorium to the Queen Susan.

  
"-Please, try to understand Your Majesty! We _must_ find a way to raise our birthrate! If we do not, we may soon face consequences." Susan set her spine and stared icily across the council table at the Centaur addressing her and the elders he'd brought with him.   
"I **do** understand." Her tone was cool, her eyes dark. "And I will tell you that I will not have the right to choose taken from my subjects, no matter what their population. I will not stand to have sentient, living, talking Beasts or Creatures used purely to breed, the idea itself is abhorrent to Us." She wished she had the freedom to rage, to snarl, to bare her teeth and throw something, to make them understand just what they were proposing. And yet she must refrain. Must hold tight to the ice and only let it melt in private, where she could scream as much as she liked over the proposed hideous injustice. 

"I know well enough that you are afraid for the future," She spoke, tone barely controlled. "But after a century of having no rights, no autonomy, I will not see it stolen from my countrymen just as they are learning to use it once more." She spread her hands across the papers in front of her, eyes never leaving theirs. "I will speak with the High King when he is returned; and do not think you I misunderstand how you have waited until he is gone to present this to me-" a few had the grace to look abashed and to shift with the weight of her scorn. "Perhaps a reward may be granted, for one year from now, for every live birth. But I will not see anyone punished for exercising what is their basic right as sentient Creatures under the Lion." She resisted the urge to sniff derisively, but only just. "Now. I believe Our Cousin had something to present to Us?" 

The centaurs shifted aside, shuffling their documents as a lone Faun rose to his feet and began to speak. As he did, one of their Elders began to understand their folly in having approached the monarch called The Gentle, assuming her to be more moralistic and compassionate than her siblings.

~*~

The ring of metal on metal was a sound Edmund was quickly learning to despise. The plan had worked, after a fashion, though not as he had planned it. The fox they'd sent in to bait their enemies had returned, limping, followed by a squadron of black dwarves and five large wolves. The arrows from the dwarves had not been accounted for, nor had the not one, but two, ogres that had followed on the lumbering hoofsteps of the minotaurs. Even with the centaurs fighting back with bows and the big cats with claws and teeth, the minotaurs were proving difficult to manage. Even with the aerial attacks from Tasla and the other Gryphons, they were finding the battle a hard one. Two gryphons were down with arrows and javelins through wings and haunches, and the wolves were circling fauns who had run out of arrows. Short swords not withstanding, the wolves were larger and heavier than those they had fought at the Battle of Beruna. Edmund wiped his face on his sleeve and rose his sword again.   
  
"NARNIA! To me! For Aslan-" and charged once again into the fray. 

Peter watched as Edmund rallied his half of their force, and answered the call in kind. Fighting back to back and side to side with Dog and Cat and faun alike, they cut a swath through their enemies. To his left through the clearing he could see the centaurs finally bringing down one of the ogres, to his right the gryphons seemed to have regrouped to claim the second. The tide was slowly turning in their favor, and now... now all they had to do was see it through to the end.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Five_

The days began to blur, so far as Susan was concerned. Her days were constantly filled with verbal sparring in the Council chambers after breakfast and performing compassion and mercy on the Throne all afternoon until the evening councils and dinner and then after hours spent either with courtiers or reading over King Gale's journals. Sixteen days after Peter and Edmund had left to track the latest threat of the White Witch's lingering army, she again took out the leather bound tome that held the past of Narnia. 

She settled into the windowseat of her chamber, back cushioned by the many pillows and bolsters that had been made and brought; simple linen and good clean woolens; and drew the knitted blanket up over her legs to cover her. She spread the book across her knees and bent her head over it in the lamplight, flipping through the pages until she found where she had left off. 

_Summer, 293, June 20th_

_-I have found the answers I have spent so many hours searching for. Father's silence has availed him nothing, and now, now I find myself facing a strange and uncertain future. Tomorrow, so say the Elders of Narnia, I must ritually marry the country I am oath bound to rule and, there is no easy way to say it, experience my wedding night. There shall be a large fire somewhere in the wood, and I must find it before the moon rises to her zenith and join in the revelries. To join myself to Narnia not just in word, but in deed as well. And, after so doing, to keep the silence in all places but here. And, perhaps, not even here in the journals I have kept since I was a boy... As the secrets of that night are, also, to be Oath Bound under the Lion._

_And I, I, who have never known the touch of a woman these twenty-one years, nor the touch of a man either as one might expect given the nature of my birth... must do this. And yet. And yet. And yet- this first time of mine must be spent with many eyes upon me, and with perhaps not only one lover but many. I am overwhelmed by the idea of it, the very concept and it's shape in my mind. My mind refuses to accept it, continues to try to reject it even as I know somewhere in my heart of hearts that it is right. That this is the will of the Lion._

_I do not know the shape the ceremony is to take. I do not know what awaits me, only that it does. I have never attended the Solstice Festival, under the strictest orders of my Father and, I think, that now I understand the reasoning of it. If Father had known all this time what was to transpire; nay, had even to experience it himself upon his own coronation; then perhaps he thought he was being kind. Perhaps that, unknowing might be better, if only to not disappoint whatever lover I might have taken in putting them aside upon this moment. Or, failing that, to come into this ritual somehow unclean. Though I think, perhaps, that Aslan might have understood anyway, if I had, being that we are only human after all and that not all Kings and Queens of Narnia come to the throne as youths. Even King Frank and Queen Helen were not so- though they were married, it is true._

_But my thoughts are never ending circles tonight. Thread upon thread I take up to try to reason my way through the tangle but it always leads me back to the center again. Tomorrow night, by midnight, I must find myself in the arms of the True Narnia. Not this veneer we present to the world, to Archenland, to Calormene, of regal reserved civility but as barbarians in truth. Superstitious or pagan by turns, upon the logic of the one seeing it. And.... well. I suppose that is the point I have been circling all this while, the reasoning behind my Lord Father's silence._

_And I, born as I was and in the flesh given to me, must do this thing. I, lost in this vessel, must find myself at last lost in another. Gods grant me the strength to bear it._

~*~

Susan read over the last lines several times, turning them over in her mind.   
"It's almost as if... but no, it's impossible. Isn't it?" She worried at her lower lip with her teeth, hands twisting in the afghan nervously. "Wedding night. Marrying oneself to Narnia. Oh-" Her face bloomed red as blood with the realization of just what it might have meant. Why the secrecy, the hidden nature of the ritual to be undertaken. "And... _Peter_!" _Oh no, oh God, if this is true, then Peter must.... and I.... and EDMUND._ A soft cry left her lips when she thought then of her younger sister, innocent Lucy, perhaps someday finding her way to the Solstice Fires. _Lion help us all, if it's true!_ The book slid from her lap to the ground and she didn't notice, lost in the discomfort and uncertainty of the rapidly approaching future.

~*~

For his part, Peter was currently nursing a rather large bruise to his shoulder and the blow to his ego that had accompanied it.   
"You could have warned me!" He sniped bitterly, hissing in pain as the rest of his left arm's dusty plate was removed by an apologetic faun. "I mean really, Ed, you were looking right at me!" Edmund had the grace to look abashed, instead of amused, and offered Peter his half-full canteen.   
"For what it's worth, I am sorry," he offered, "Only I'd thought you'd seen his shadow at least, if not heard him lumbering up behind you like a landslide. He was certainly loud enough," he muttered. The High King stifled a curse as the faun pressed a cold compress to his shoulder, doing her best to remove the dirt and clear the wound so she could see it clearly. 

"If the King's Grace could hold still, please," she said sternly, golden eyes narrowed in consternation. "So I might see what it is I am meant to be helping-" Peter nodded, and took the canteen from Edmund's proffered hand with a grimace.   
"Apologies, Alria- I don't mean to be a bear about it-" A distant snort caused Peter to wince. "I mean-" Alria held up a sun-browned hand and shook her head firmly.   
"I understood your meaning, Your Royal Highness, but if you could please desist before you put your foot even further into your mouth, I'm certain your troops would appreciate it." She nudged him good naturedly for all her sternness. "But perhaps another lesson in Narnian idiom would prove beneficial all the same." 

Edmund hid a groan in a mailed fist, coughing discreetly. The lessons offered on their long ride into the forest had been...educational, if confusing, and he did not relish another dissertation on why "boys and girls" was considered to be highly offensive to Talking Dogs or "kids" to the Fauns.   
"Ha...uhm. I think perhaps it might wait until we're back in the saddle, Alria," he managed a wry grin. "But thank you, just the same." 


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey Everyone!_

_I know it's been about a week since I updated and there are further updates in the works! However-  
I just took on a lot of extra shifts at work thanks to one of my coworkers quitting. It might be a week or two until it settles back down._

_Just know that I have not abandoned this story, and am plotting the next several chapters already!_

_-Crow_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time.... I'm sorry.

_Chapter Six_

Susan found herself pacing often over the next few days. Turning the words of King Gale's journal over and over in her mind, worrying at it like a tangled knot in her sewing. It was like an itch in a place she just couldn't scratch, irritating and frustrating in its complexity and relative simplicity. She'd heard often enough the phrase "the land and the king are one" but she hadn't expected it to be meant so physically. So uncomfortably literally. It had been just over a week and a half since the young Kings' departure from the Capitol, and Susan had yet to make much headway with the rapidly growing list of tasks allotted to her with the eventual ceremony weighing so heavily on her mind. For every piece of paper or meeting struck out, another three seemed to grow in their place. 

From traditionalist Centaur tribes to divided factions of Talking Beasts; to hiring new under staff for the kitchens, the dairy, the brewery all the way down to deciding on the order in which old buildings could be refurbished and new ones built to make the Cair more walled city than merely large palatial estate. In the end, she settled for making decisions on as many small matters as possible, and leaving the larger matters of protocol and state for when all four siblings could make a decision together as a united front. And thus, she set about putting her shoulder to the grindstone. 

~*~

"I should like another hedgerow added just... there, I should think, and the next three fields planted before the turn of the moon if possible. We don't know how long our seasons will be, at least not reliably, and even with reduced numbers we've a kingdom to feed in its entirety. I'll not see us relying on Archenland's generosity any longer than absolutely necessary." The willow dryad bowed his head and with a soft   
"Your Majesty," left with his leatherbound folio of signed pages. Susan leaned back in the heavy carved chair and rubbed silently at her pale temples.   
"What's next on the agenda, Darza?" The large cream colored wolf flicked one ear, warm brown gaze going blank as she took in the conversations just beyond the closed oaken doors of the council chambers.  
"Another delegation from the Red Dwarves, Your Majesty. Seeking mining rights it would seem. Earthlight, are there any competing interests?" A female centaur quickly consulted the large, handwritten tome of various maps and their traditional uses and tribal occupations.   
"None that I can see at the moment, lady. At your convenience then, Your Majesty." 

Susan lifted her head, reaching up to reassure herself of the weight of her crown.   
"Very well, send them in, Darza." 

~*~

The rest of Susan's day passed much the same, delegating tasks and learning the ins and outs of the kingdom. The air of Narnia was working on her, much as it was on Peter and Edmund. But instead of physical battlefields, hers were taking place in the minds and hearts of her people. When the day's work had passed and she was free once more, she sought out Arvus in the library. The Head Librarian was standing over a little repurposed tea cart, piled high with books of various sizes and bindings. His spectacles were riding low on his nose, gingery hair mussed as though he'd just shoved his hands through it in exasperation. 

"Ah! Your Majesty!" His hooves made soft clicking sounds against the thick carpet as he moved towards her, hands extended to catch her own and press a courtly kiss to the back of her hand. "What can I do for you this fine afternoon?" Susan smiled wryly, and withdrew Gale's journal from her embroidered bag.   
"I have finished what I may of King Gale's first journal... I find myself discomfited by it, but in need of more information. I believe I understand now why the High King bids me wait, not to take part-" Arvus snorted indelicately.   
"You need say no more, Your Highness, I think I see the right of it. You're correct, of course. The King Gale was as frank as one could expect, and of course you might find it unnatural, not being a natural born Narnian yourself. However, I think perhaps you, and your brother the King, might find it more necessary than you expect." He pushed his spectacles back up his nose and smiled briefly.   
"With Your Majesty's permission, I would like you to meet with the Elders when the High King has returned. I feel it's high time you be told just what's expected of you both, and in time, your younger siblings. I applaud His Majesty in his efforts to protect you from your innocent discomfort on the subject, but as monarchs of Narnia-" Susan lifted a hand, eyes bright with determination.   
"As a reigning monarch of Narnia, I intend to do what I can for the care and confidence of our people, Mr. Arvus. _All_ of our people." 

Arvus smiled a small, fierce-eyed smile and nodded decisively.   
"As you will, Your Majesty. I rather think you may be the bravest of us all."


End file.
